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September 1918 by Amy Lowell

Amy Lowell has always been one of my favorite poets. Her imagery is unsurpassed in my mind, and I remember reading her collected works in high school, and being so touched by each of them. This poem, ostensibly about a fall day, is truly beautiful, but there is an underlying theme dealing with the fact that the world was at war. World War I, specifically. In addition to the line referencing the war, you can pick up on the melancholy of the second part of the poem. And if you want to go over every word, there are other references that can be applied, too. For myself, I’m happy to read it in a less analytical way, though it’s impossible to miss the sense of bittersweet sadness at the end. Hope some of you enjoy it.